Thank you for your support!

With your support by clicking on our links and using StarAngels' Reviews Ads to purchase your products through Amazon, etc. - All proceeds from these sales go directly back into the page and are used for the benefit of our fans and followers. We use this money to purchase Gift Cards and Swags in order to host Giveaways!

She had no plans to stop, her mind already back on the magazines and papers she’d found in the trunk and the mysteries they contained. The past week had been filled with enthusiastic reunions with Cole; enjoying every moment with him she could while she could. Her fears of what he’d do once he learned of her condition left her grasping at every moment together, and left little time for solving riddles.

While she’d thoroughly enjoyed every moment in Cole’s arms, the pressing need to learn the truth took precedence. Soon enough she’d be unable to deny to him what was happening, the child inside would be obvious. In her heart she knew Cole wasn’t ready for another child, and likely never would be. He wasn’t even ready for a real relationship.

As much as she treasured his support and caring in the past weeks, she would need to start pushing him away. She had no other choice. If she gave him freedom now he couldn’t accuse her of trying to trap him.

A sharp whistle pulled her from her thoughts. She slowed Tempest to locate the source. Before she could focus on what was happening, Cole had leapt into the saddle behind her. She gasped, yelping when he grabbed the reins and spurred the horse into a much faster clip than she was comfortable with. “Cole!”

He didn’t say a word, just raced down the road toward her house.

“Cole. What are you doing?”

A tug on the reins pulled them to a stop in front of her house and he swung out of the saddle. The moment Jane shifted to get herself down, Cole reached for her.

She tried to protest the impulsive move. “I’m not—”

His lips captured hers, sealing her protest with searing heat she felt to her core. Without clear thought, her body responded to his insistence eagerly. He tugged her body tight against his and backed toward the door.

She gasped for air when he released her from the brutal, claiming kiss. Her protest morphed into a sharp yelp when he scooped her up and carried her toward the bedroom. She tried to push against him, and when he laid her out on the bed she hit him hard in the chest. “What in the hell are you doing?”

“You gotta ask?” He sucked in her lower lip and nibbled at it. She didn’t want to respond, for she knew what she needed to do, but her nerves sprang to life against her better judgment. His lips trailed down her chin to her throat.

She couldn’t help but arch into the warmth of his lips. Her brain spun in circles, alive from the fire of his touch, though she tried to force it back to calm. After all, this action wasn’t of affection, it was of another emotion. “Acting on your jealousy?”

“I ain’t jealous.” He found the sensitive patch of skin beneath her ear. His capable fingers popped open the buttons of her bodice faster than ever.

“Laying claim to me again? Marking your territory?” The bitter words tumbled from her lips before she could stop to think, but his possessive claiming wounded her pride. The words hit their mark, and he froze above her. She tried to still her nervous, rapid breathing.

His smirk twisted into a grimace. Nose to nose with her, he remained still for several moments before forming a reply. “No one could own ya.”

“It’s good you know that.” She’d stilled her breath and dug deep into the pain of what she knew would be their upcoming downfall to force venom into her words. It should have been more difficult, but his ministrations had made her ache for him. Unsatisfied libido had always made her grumpy, and forcing herself to say the words she knew would anger him made her even more so.

In one slow, painful gesture, he pulled the weight of his body off hers. He’d planted on either side of her head, and the anger of her words had settled in his eyes. “Always did.”

“Good. Always remember.” Her heart twisted when he stood and walked away. Why was she torturing herself? Why couldn’t she just tell him? End the grief. Let him make the choice she knew he would. Her heart would break either way, why not do it faster rather than slower? “Cole.”

His footsteps stopped somewhere in the next room. Silence fell, wrapping around her heart and squeezing it still.

“I’m pregnant.” There. She’d said it. Surprisingly, she wasn’t panicked or giddy, or much of anything. A calm acceptance settled inside, perhaps because she’d already run through every possible outcome of this scenario in her head. The persistent silence ripped through the calm she’d felt until a tear trembled up and escaped down her cheek. She clung to a small vestige of the rare feeling of hope that he might, perhaps, not do as expected.

“Who should I congratulate? Or do ya even know? Could be anyone’s right?”

That lingering smidgen of hope shattered into a million pieces, each one shearing through her already bleeding heart with razor sharpness. The pain pooled into a dark pit of growing anger. How dare he?

She flew to her feet, ignoring the shooting pain in her ankle to storm to her bedroom door. All set to yell at him, the fear in his features shocked her silent. None of his angry accusation matched the feared lines creasing his face.

Dread and hope curled into a pained grimace as he dragged his normally strong, fierce gaze from hers. When he couldn’t even look her in the eyes, she knew. He wanted her to agree with him, he needed her to; he was too weak to face the possibility of having, and losing, another child.

Tears filled her eyes, but she dug down deep to give him this one last thing before she released him. Her hand gripped the door – pain, fear, loneliness, and revulsion racked her body as she forced forward the first outright lie she’d ever told him. “Yes. It could be anyone’s.”

EXCERPT TWO

An all-too familiar, sultry voice interrupted Norman’s reply. Jane’s voice wove through his body and called him like a siren called a sailor. “Norman, I’d like to send a telegram.”

Cole froze in place. Her gasp jolted him back into motion.

Norman’s smile broke through his grump, the corners of his eyes crinkling as he focused on the door. “Sure thing, Jane. Let me just finish up with Cole. Where’s it goin’?”

“Yankton.”

He immediately thought of her trunk, the mention of Yankton. Could she have found answers? He didn’t care, he shouldn’t care. Cole’s grip on the box in front of him tightened, crumbling the edge. He nodded Norman. “Ain’t no business left here, Norm. Gotta get back. Girls are waiting on me.”

She stiffened, her pale features drawn. Her eyes wore dark shadows like skirts, and she appeared thinner somehow despite her condition. As her fingers gripped her reticule, and her lips tightened until they almost disappeared, a twinge of guilt hit.

No, he’d spent enough time allowing feelings he never should have. He wouldn’t let her affect him anymore.

The simple act of walking past her stirred up enough air to fill his nose with the scent of her perfume. His heart plummeted to his stomach. So often that scent had wrapped around him. He glanced over his shoulder and found her eyes on him.

Caught, she pulled her gaze away and rambled on about her telegram. Though she’d turned away fast, he’d see the tear on her cheek. The tear he knew he’d caused. He stormed from the depot, several colorful curses escaping under his breath. No matter what, he’d push away the emotions again. He had to.

There was no way he was going through the hell of having a kid. Not that he knew it was his. She’d told him as much. Just what he’d expected to hear. No, what he’d wanted to hear. What he’d needed to hear to make his escape.

He stopped in the middle of the street, feeling like he’d just been gored by a bull. She’d made it easy for him. Played on his anger. It had been so easy to leave. For him.

“Damn her.” He resumed his fast pace through town. He’d told her everything; he’d let her in. She knew as well as he did that he couldn’t handle it. The pain. The destruction to his life.

The joy.

How could he have forgotten that?

The joy was gone. It was gone because he’d allowed himself to feel it. What a mistake it had been to let Jane in. Now he was feeling joy wrenched away again.

Wrenched away?

More like pushed away. He’d forced her hand, and she’d forced it right back. She’d shown his weakness in one fell swoop, and let him have his out. She hadn’t really been finding comfort in others, had she?

If she hadn’t, the child was his.

The child was his. He knew it, maybe he’d known it all along.

“Cole,” Graham barked.

He startled from his thoughts to glare at Graham. “What?”

“Why are you just standing there? We got a business to run. Them the cigars?”

“Yeah. Here.” He tossed them on the bar and raced up to his room where he slammed the door. It was empty again. It had been the first thing he’d done that day, removing anything that had made the room seem homey. All the little touches Jane had put there. It had been a comfort to go back to what was familiar.

The barrenness.

Solitude.

Now it felt cold. Too empty.

He opened his nightstand drawer and reached inside. The book was hers. The first thing she’d left in his room. He’d never given it back. She’d never asked for it.

Whitman.

That’s what she’d said it was, at least. He didn’t know.

He sat on the edge of the bed, the book heavy in his lap. After a long sigh, he dropped back onto the bed.

There was no way he could go through it again. It was too much pain.

But not having Jane there was causing pain too.

It was too late. He’d let her in and there was no road now that wouldn’t have pain.

He needed a way to make it right. To have her close again. If it was possible.

Would she even want him now?

ABOUT SARAH CASS

Sarah Cass' world is
regularly turned upside down by her three special needs kids and loving mate,
so she breaks genre barriers; dabbling in horror, straight fiction and urban
fantasy. She loves historicals and
romance, and characters who are real and flawed, so she writes to understand
what makes her fictional people tick.
And she lives for a happy ending - eventually. And enough twists to make
it look like she enjoys her title of Queen of Trauma Drama a little too much.

An ADD tendency leaves
her with a variety of interests that include singing, dancing, crafting, cooking,
and being a photographer. She fights through the struggles of the day, knowing
the battles are her crucible; she may emerge scarred, but always stronger. The rhythms to her activities drive her words
forward, pushing her through the labyrinths of the heart and the nightmares of
the mind, driving her to find resolutions to her characters' problems.

While busy creating
worlds and characters as real to her as her own family, she leads an active
online life with her blog, Redefining Perfect, which gives a real and sometimes
raw glimpse into her life and art. You
can most often find her popping out her 140 characters in Twitter speak, and on
Facebook.